


Cleanse

by hanwritessolo



Series: Something Spaces [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanwritessolo/pseuds/hanwritessolo
Summary: Noctis miraculously survives his sacrifice and brings the light back to Eos. But will he also survive in his efforts to make his amends over a mistake he committed ten years ago?





	Cleanse

“You called for me, Your Majesty?”

Despite the clear echo of your voice that swelled all over this ridiculously massive bedchamber, Noctis stood unperturbed and almost motionless at the far end of the room, watching the city lights of Insomnia flicker restlessly from the window. Even in the room’s severe absence of color, with all its elaborately gray paneled walls and jet-black marbled floors, one cannot miss how Noctis stood out so vividly, his posture straight and sharp in his royal raiment, radiating a fierce regality befitting a Lucian king.

You stop a couple of steps away from him, admittedly a tad intimidated by his presence and slightly hesitating to close the distance, because you’re only a glaive and Noctis is  _the_ king, and you’re waiting awkwardly in his chamber of all places. But you can’t deny the silence that simmered between the both of you spoke volumes of a bittersweet history and of all the words that still remain unsaid.

The minute seemed to roll by endlessly, so you muster enough courage as you clear your throat and sheepishly repeat, “Your Majesty, I—“

“Let’s drop the formalities,” Noctis finally turns around, and in this light, you can see the deep blue of his eyes and how his mouth slowly curves into a smile.

You hold his gaze as firmly as you can. “If you so wish, Your Majesty—“

“Can it.”

“King Noctis?”

“Nope,” he says in a casual tone, one you’ve closely forgotten that he still possessed. He reduces the space between the two of you, until he’s standing so close you can taste his peppermint breath. “Just… Noct. Please?”

You gather enough strength to sustain this painfully intimate proximity, and you force yourself to smile and nod. “Okay, Noct.”

He brushes a strand of your hair hanging loosely on your face. “You’re still as difficult as ever.”

“Takes one to know one,” you nervously laugh, briskly turning your back away from him and sauntering towards the window, hiding the fact that Noctis just flustered the shit out of you with his absurdly beautiful face refined by time. Has it really been that long? Sure, from the moment you learned of his return and his subsequent survival from his sacrifice that brought back light to the world, you dodged every possible opportunity of ever crossing paths with him. You actively avoided any form of interaction that you practically begged Gladio to have you posted outside Insomnia. But of course, you’re awfully aware that these efforts were all for naught, because for fuck’s sake, you’re one of the seasoned members of the Kingsglaive, and that in and of itself already made any of your attempts impossible. You were bound to see Noctis one way or another. But this closeness threatens to open past wounds you thought have already healed.

And what better way to start picking at the scabs than to see that Noctis has even become more handsome, and commandingly so.

“Anyway, is there anything you need from me that you had me summoned in your chambers?” you ask.

“Well,” Noctis slowly considers his words, “It’s just—I know it’s been hectic around here lately, and we haven’t really spent some time together, and I thought… maybe I can spend tonight with you, just to talk and catch up.”

You didn’t know which surprised you more: Noctis openly admitting and so succinctly requesting for your company, or the pure honesty and sincerity of it all. As far as you’ve known him—or at least, your memory of him from ten years ago—Noctis had always found it difficult articulating his feelings, preferring to bottle up his words at the first sign of intimacy that you had to coax him with little acts of affection. You begin to wonder if this is somehow part of your doing, or some divine work from the Astrals; nevertheless, you somehow feel genuinely relieved, in spite of the raging current of emotions you’re trying desperately to control.

You must have been blankly staring into space for a solid minute when Noctis anxiously says, “Look, I’m sorry if this came out of nowhere—“

“No, Noct—it’s quite alright!” You swivel to face him with a beaming grin, a trick you have mastered to mask the jitters clawing its way down your throat. “I mean, if you want to talk. Though I can’t say I have something interesting to tell you except that Ignis is literally killing us with all the rework schedule, and there’s Gladio barking orders all day, and there’s Cor—“

“This sounds more like a council briefing and a little less than a nice chat between old friends,” he lightheartedly laughs, and something in your chest ignites. It’s a foreign feeling that tiptoed between longing and loneliness, and you’re certain that the sound of Noctis’ hearty laughter should have never made you feel something like that. You bravely drag your eyes to look at him and he continues, “Truth is… I want to know more about what happened in these past years with you. And what changed.”

And just like that, your head sharply flicks back to an aged memory—then freeze frame, a pause, a rewind. The memory stretched back to an entire decade that passed by like a miserable blur, but it all boils down to that night in Lestallum: just like all the other nights before it, you and Noctis spent making love until the morning light, your body almost begging him to stay, asking him to choose _you._ But unlike all the other nights, that particular one he left you with a cold and empty side of the bed, without saying a word.

What happened is that you watched yourself bleed, and you spent these ten wretched years painstakingly building yourself anew from the dust and shards of your heart that Noctis left behind. What changed is that little by little, you moved on. You moved forward under the cover of darkness that is your life, and you embraced it. Certainly, the memories of Noctis waxed and waned through time; and so, you moved on, and you healed.

But here goes Noctis, slowly chipping away these walls you’ve built, destroying your defenses one brick after another. He must have seen how your body faintly tensed, or how your eyes finally betrayed the smile on your face. And before he moves even closer, you spit out the words you’ve kept locked away all this time.

“You could’ve said goodbye,” your voice was soft and low, but every syllable was doused in acid, and you see Noctis flinch as if you burned him.

“I’m—I’m _really_ sorry,” is all he manages to stammer out, and there’s a hint of pain in his face that you did not quite expect.

“Did I not deserve that from you, Noct?”

“You deserve more than that, more than anything—“

“Then more than anything, you should know that even though it pains me to know that I had to let you go at some point, I spent every waking hour trying to figure out what I did wrong that you left me just like _that.”_

“I promise you, you didn’t do anything—”

“Then, why?”

“Because if I did, I was finally admitting to myself that I was losing you!” the sudden strident tone that swelled in Noctis’ voice echoed a decade’s worth of agony, and the words keep spilling right out of his mouth. “And… I didn’t want to lose you. I never wanted to go to Altissia. I never wanted to board that boat and get married. Luna is my best friend but—but you… you’re the fucking love of my life. Because for once in this sorry existence of mine, you made me feel that I can be more than just what the world wanted me to be. You gave me that luxury of being myself, and I wanted to hate you for it, but I can’t, and I love you too much to even think about hating you, even though you hate me now—”

“Noct, I don’t hate you—”

“Then explain to me why you’ve been avoiding me all this time,” the hurt in his voice is much more evident now, and he marches his way to bridge the remaining gap between the two of you. Noctis faces you with his eyes in desperate search for answers. “Ever since I came back, you never showed yourself—and when you do, you barely even look at me at the corridor when we pass by each other.”

“That’s...” Your own words fail you as the guilt twists your stomach into knots. The pain that you see in Noctis’ face clearly shows that all this time, you’ve inadvertently hurt him with your actions. Besides, in the grander scheme of things, it’s like you took your turn to further rub salt in his own wounds; you knew far too well that he, too, went through varying degrees of misery from the moment he took it upon himself to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders. You knew it wasn’t easy. You knew it was all unfair to begin with. He fought his share of battles, just as you did yours. The realization of your selfishness finally left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Before the silence could grow any longer, Noctis selflessly begs, “Tell me, please. Let me make it up to you—”

Stubborn as you are, you vehemently reply, “No, you can’t.”

“Why? Why not?”

“Because I can’t have you, Noct.” The words fell like boulders, and so did the tears you’ve been trying to hold back for almost an eternity, and the feelings you thought you’ve lost finally resurface as clear as day. “I love you—oh gods, I still do love you, but you and I both know that whatever _this_ is, we can’t possibly have—”

Perhaps it was the need and want that aged along with time, or the grueling absence you have both already endured, but that small admission—those three little words that escaped your pretty mouth—was all that Noctis needed to crash his lips onto yours. It came quick and breathless that any form of protest was left to wilt somewhere in the depths of your mind.

“That’s all I wanted to know,” Noctis tentatively pulls away, his lips ghosting against yours. There’s no use fighting the raging need, no point in raising the barrier around your feelings when his mouth is on you again, his kiss hungrier this time around. It’s a kiss that unearthed a burning passion, a sinful longing that no other person on Eos could ever quell. You loop your hands around his neck, fingers grazing the back of his head as if to find some balance, or at least some form of sanity, because Astrals be damned, the way your lips and tongue sloppily danced with each other drove you stark-raving insane.

The mindless minutes of kissing pass like a vicious hurricane, and it didn’t take long for Noctis to slowly steer you toward the bed, and you already undo the buttons of his suit with aching urgency as he peels you out of your jacket and strips you off your shirt. It was all a graceless undressing; pieces of garment lay haphazardly on the floor until the both of you stood in bare skin and flesh, and Noctis finally guides you to lay on your back against the soft sheets.

“I missed you so much,” you tug him down, kissing him again. Your lips are on fire with a decade of craving and yearning, and each of your kisses tell all the things you’ve always wanted to tell him.

_You’re important to me. I need all of you. Let me have you._

“I missed you, too—so, _so_ much,” he breathes on your neck, gently sinking his teeth with the softest bites on your delicate skin. Like a canvas, Noctis traces and inks your body with his lips, painting you with shapes of crimson and lilac petals. In loving reverence, he revisits every space and territory, every scar and blemish, and in his touch, you can hear his response.

_You’re beautiful. I want all of you. Let me have you._

Slowly but surely, in sweet exaltation, Noctis slides lower to leave openmouthed kisses in the plump flesh of your breasts, all the way to your stomach, until he finds a home in the warmth between your thighs.

A gasp, a cry, a whimper. Again and again, Noctis drags his mouth and tongue inside you, twisting and coiling, feasting on your taste as if he has been deprived of nourishment. You choke out a laugh, both at the tickling sensation of his stubble and the silly amusement because after all this time, Noctis _still_ knows what he’s doing.

“Holy shit, holy _fucking_ shit,”’ you helplessly babble, and you can feel Noctis tighten his grip around your thighs.

He pauses, and it’s an agonizing pause because Noctis is still a little shit when it comes to taking you over the edge. You hear him tease, “Do you want me to stop—”

“Please don’t ever stop until the day I die.”

Noctis laughs, and you feel it against your skin. You know he takes pride in his knowledge of your body; the moment he witnesses how your back bends as if put under a spell by his touch, he pulls you even closer by the waist to keep you in place to relish the magic that is his tongue. Even if he’s taking you apart at the seams as you grasp for the sheets, he takes no mercy and shows no pity. His breath punctuates every lick and curl of his mouth and tongue, and at this point, you swear you’re gradually and actually dying. You’re shaking and trembling, in the verge of tears, and so, _so_ close that you sink your fingers through his hair.

“Noct, please. I need more. More. I need you inside me. Now.” You ramble, clutching at his hands. Noctis finally pulls away and kneels up with an indulgent smile on his face, and it’s the look that says, _I’m more than happy to oblige._ He pries your legs apart, and Noctis jerks himself forward.

Another gasp, cry, and whimper. His hands clench around the headboard, and you squeeze yourself around him. The friction is electric, and you’re disintegrating into the intense pleasure and pressure. He rolls his hips, smoothly and deeply, and the cadence of his pace is unforgiving that a sob catches your throat.

“You have no idea—” Noctis says as he takes your waist in between groans and pummel of his hips— “how much I wanted to pull you away whenever I see you talking only with Ignis.”

You manage a breathy laugh, “Is somebody jealous?”

“Fucking hell I am.” Noctis maintains the pace as he lifts you by the ass, pulling you closer against his chest. He moves rougher, his force a little fiercer. You wrap your legs around him, and the both of you are a tangle of limbs.

You deliver each other’s names in violent cries, along with other slew of curses and filth.  You see Noctis losing himself a little, and you take the chance to push him to lie on his back. Given this angle, Noctis drinks at this very sight of you mounting him; he knows no control that he can’t help to buck and pound himself upward, his hands returning at the side of your hips to keep you from falling. Your fingers claw and rasp against his chest as you rock yourself forward, leaving a souvenir of scratches as the pleasure finally boils over. The erotic sound that the both of you make echoes all throughout the room that you probably waked everyone else living in the Citadel.

Nevertheless, the exhaustion is sweet and heavy. You collapse on Noctis, wondering how you were able to even last that long.

“You okay?” he asks, absentmindedly playing with your hair.

“I am dead. Is this heaven?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks. But more. Kill me one more time. Let’s do it again,” the words left you in a hurried slur, and Noctis could only laugh in amusement. You still needed him, you missed this laughing and fucking, and you swear you can do this forever.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he flips you around so fast that the both of you explode in intoxicating laughter, and for a second, you might have forgotten how to breathe.

 

* * *

 

You can’t exactly remember how last night ended. Or was it just this morning? But you wake up nestled in Noctis’ warm chest, softly rising and falling with his every breath.

You carefully slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You still reek of sex and sweat, and far too distracted with how sore your legs are that you didn’t even bother gawking at the size of Noctis’ bathroom. (Should you even still be surprised at this point? The vastness is beyond you. It makes your studio apartment look like a portion of his massive bath tub.)

Before you step into the shower, which is neatly separated from the tub across from it, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the mirrors. (How many mirrors do people of royalty even need? Again, the answers are beyond you.) You are covered in pink- and rose-colored bruises like an abstract masterpiece. You smile, thanking all the gods that the Kingsglaive uniform was designed to hide any hint of skin. Well, except for the one on your neck. Your smile slowly transforms into a worried sigh.

You’re a firm believer that there is some sort of enlightenment of the mind when one relishes themselves in a warm shower. As the water cascades down your skin, you try to process everything that has occurred last night, hoping to rationalize your thoughts. For one moment, you were absolutely sure that any form of romance between you and Noctis have died many moons ago. But now here you are, in his shower, cloaked in love bites and still reeling from the very idea of… _this._ A relationship is the last thing on your mind, and having one with the king of Lucis isn’t exactly a simple matter. How does he plan to make this work? How does one ever make this kind of thing work in the first place? Different worlds and different people...

And before you can even entertain the looming anxiety at the back of your mind, the glass door creaks and Noctis joins you, way too calmly, like taking a shower together has been a shared routine for the both of you.

He loops an arm around your waist and presses a kiss at the back of your neck. “Mind if I join you?”

“My, aren’t you up early,” you turn around, and you cup his rugged face in your hands. “Don’t you hate mornings?”

“I love my mornings if I get to spend it with you.” He takes a bar of soap that smelled like shea butter and begins to rub it between his hands.

“Huh. Here in the shower?”

“Especially in the shower.”

While you take the soap out of his hands, he delicately spreads the lather over your shoulders, the side of your breasts, coasting down the curve of your hips. And it’s a strange thing how every portion of your body fits his hands like a glove, as if you were carefully crafted for his touch. If this isn’t intimacy, then you don’t know what kind of sorcery this is.

In return, your hands take advantage to stroke the planes of his chest and arms. You blurt out, “You’re gorgeous. I hate you.”

“No, I’m not,” he only smiles, and he licks the water droplets on your jaw.

“Yes, you are. If you say you’re not, you’re insulting half of the male population right now.”

“You’re still a sassy little shit, you know that?”

“I know. But I’m serious, Noct. You’re… _damn._ That kind of gorgeous is a crime against all of humanity. Look at my squish,” you playfully exaggerate as you squeeze the sides of your belly, and the both of you laugh.

“Hey, I love your squish,” he grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer to his chest. “And I can tell something’s bothering you.”

You bite your lip. It’s unbelievable how Noctis can be so utterly observant when it comes to you. There’s no point in lying, so you say: “It’s just… I’m thinking how this will work out for us this time around.”

“What do you mean?” He nudges his face on your shoulder and you feel ticklish with his stubble rubbing against your skin. You laugh.

“I mean… _us._ Like, how does a king tell his people that he’s in love with one of his soldiers?”

There’s gravity and a whole lot of responsibility in the question that you catapulted in his direction. You were half-expecting that Noctis would only smile that sweet smile of his and deliberately skirt around the subject. The other half was just you waiting for this conversation to fall into pieces. But then, surprisingly enough, he only lovingly looks at you, his eyes full of gentleness and adoration, a complete opposite of his austere face. He leans forward, and you’re standing nose-to-nose, skin pressed against skin, the warm water streaming in between and he says, “Then a king should simply tell them that he’ll make her his queen.”

It took a long, winding second for you to realize what he meant that you immediately felt your heart drop. And it goes back up, racing inside your chest at the speed of light.

“Look, this isn’t exactly how I planned it and I know I sometimes suck at timing,” he begins to reassure you when he sees your face gaping at him in disbelief. “But I’m serious. It would be my honor in this lifetime to have you as my wife. I would totally kneel right now—”

“Noctis Lucis Caelum.” You sharply interrupt, your hands gripping his arms with superhuman strength, and you stress every syllable of his name as if it would help you further process this bewildering moment. There’s something hot welling under your eyes, and you’re not sure if it’s still the warm shower water or actual tears. “Did you just propose to me _in the shower?”_

He wildly nods. “Are you mad at me? I mean, shit—what have I done—”

“Yes!” you take his face as he mutters to himself, and the grin on your face says it all, but you quickly backpedal to clarify, “I mean, yes to the proposal thing and no, I’m not mad at you!”

A bright sense of relief washes over him as he begins to dot your face with watery and shea butter-scented kisses, and you’re both laughing and smiling like a couple of idiots who won the lottery. If this is what happiness looks like, then by all means, let the Astrals give you a taste of this for the rest of your days.

“I love you,” Noctis whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “And I’m not going to let fate dictate our chances this time. Not again.”

 


End file.
